


Heavy Robe

by fructoseintolerant



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Royalty, Angst, Forbidden Love, Heavy Angst, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-03
Updated: 2020-10-03
Packaged: 2021-03-07 21:02:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,410
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26784106
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fructoseintolerant/pseuds/fructoseintolerant
Summary: An Emperor doesn't slouch, nor leaning on somebody. An Emperor should only lean on his throne.Perhaps Kun did break the rule.
Relationships: Dong Si Cheng | WinWin/Qian Kun
Comments: 5
Kudos: 24





	Heavy Robe

**Author's Note:**

> heavily inspired by the the relationship between Orchid and Yung Lu in Empress Orchid. though i really recommend the book, you don't need to read it to understand this fic. lastly, i hope you enjoy!

Behind those thin walls, the eunuchs only knew that Sicheng came to do audiences. They didn't know how soft Sicheng caresses his face, and how soft his lips felt against Kun's.

Sicheng put one hand on the arm of the throne. The carvings of dragons glaring at him. But Sicheng didn't know it with his eyes closed. Kun knew he should too so that he couldn’t see the exact evidence of how the eunuchs were waiting for him to finish this audience--their shadows on the thin door.

His hands were rough. Evidence of years of training since he was young. It fit against Kun’s hand. Slotted perfectly as their lips moved in sync. Kun took a notice that it was different. _This_ was different. He was used to holding delicate and lithe hands. Smooth and spotless. The eunuch won’t even let a girl with labor hands ever step foot in this chaste kingdom. But who he was kidding. This palace is no longer the chaste. The sanctuary he finds comfort in now smells of rotten fruit. There’s too much bad apple in here.

Here he lies on a throne made of salt and sand. Soon the weight of his mind would drown him in this sand. Burned alive between hot sand in this pitiful summer. He is a king. But no one could escape the drought this summer. There’s been an uprising on country sides. Everyone demands help from the kingdom. From him. It was out of his control. For every paper he received, all told him the same : China is torn.

There’s no way he could ever succeed his ancestor. In fact, he knew at this very moment they were spitting on him, hoping their ‘spit’ would drown him and kill him this instant.

But can’t it wait? Can’t the death stand still in the corner of the chamber until this moment passes? Can’t it see that he was indulging himself in this pleasure in the form of a man? A man. Not a woman.

When they parted, Kun kept his eyes locked to Sicheng, although it was hard to hide his embarrassment. He didn't know why. Was it because of the guilt?

At a very young age, he saw his father--the previous Emperor--with other women other than his mother in the Garden of Chastity and Youth. She was beautiful. But so did other women in the kingdom. They all wear royal dresses. The sound of dangling earrings and headwear were evident as they kept up with his father in the garden. They swayes gracefully in their magnificent silk robes and high platform shoes.

The garden was below their field of vision. And he could see his mother look down to the garden everyday. She said that she was just enjoying the view. Of orchid and pippala trees, leaves green and fresh. Kun didn’t see the appeal. But he knew that no matter how beautiful it was, no sane person ever spends hours looking at their garden.

His mother didn't seem to be bothered by it. She still wore his makeup, bold. Her hair is always magnificent, though he knew the black was fake. The French ink was better than that traditional ink. Kun remembered when he used to point out the black sweats on his mother’s collar. His mother shrugged it off, saying that it was just the hot air of summer. He quickly ordered the eunuch to fan his mother until she fell asleep by the breeze. But he knew his mother was sad, beneath all those ornaments of gold and silver, his mother was fragile. 

Although The Emperor had a favorite, he never came back to any of those women. No pleasure could ever make him crawl back to those women’s embrace. Because that’s what an emperor does. He never depended on a person. So his mother was left with hanging feelings. Longing for a touch that came only once.

Kun concluded something bad that day. Different women everyday.

So he did just that. Seeking bodily pleasure every now and then. Every night he ordered his women to perform the fan dance. He was sick of it but he couldn’t find something else to distract him. From what, he already knew but refused to say it. After all, he was trying to forget.

Sicheng was the one reminding him about it.

Sicheng. Dong Sicheng.

The new general that recently got promoted. He was young. Younger than him by a year. But he was experienced. His father was a general too. Leading many wars even before Kun’s reign.

He was the one who came to him, kneeling and swore his loyalty to him on one audience. Kun took him as his beloved because he’s competent. Unlike two thirds of the hall.

Truthfully, Kun hated Sicheng. Kun thought that Sicheng was naive. A rare case where he still held this ideal of humanity. 

He was thoughtful and smart. Brave as what soldiers should be. Loyal as what servant should be. He was great.

But he possessed this faith that they could still revive China again to its greatest glory. As if China wasn’t being kicked around right now. As if Kun had the power to. Even his ancestor mocked him from their grave.

He was enticing, Kun would say. An odd case of sane in a world of madness.

Truthfully, he never actually met a sane person inside the Forbidden City. Everyone was too power crazed. All seeking to be on the good side of The Emperor. All seeking and drooling for a bit of this heaven. This place’s no longer heaven. This is a land of competition.

All sane persons that came into this world would surely lose their mind. That’s why almost all of his late father’s concubines seek revelation in prayer. Kun saw them visit the temple everyday, shaking hands holding a string of beads near their chest. It’s either you succumb yourself to prayer or lose yourself to this madness. Kun did neither.

He seeks a feeling. Anything.

But he knew it was a lie. In the distance, he could hear his mother curse him the way she used to curse the eunuch who always speaks words of lie. _’Death to your tongue!’_

In his mind was a million words and concepts he wanted to pour into words. Or even through a rice paper. Where he could see the black ink seeping through for every royal secretary wrote. It was one of several things he found satisfying. The other was forbidden. 

But he knew he was breaking all rules when he let Sicheng inside this room.

All rational thoughts fled out of his mind when he touched Sicheng’s sleeves. It was plain. No embroidered dragons, clouds, animals, nor any symbols. It was plain. Showing his rank. A sickening contrast between his own sleeve on the hand he used to grab Sicheng’s. Gold adorning the tip of the silk robe. The dragon’s eye on it was dragging his soul into punishment for wanting the man in front of him.

But still he said. “Will you be my lover?”

“No,” Sicheng said, voice small but tone never loses its firmness. 

In a moment like this, Kun hoped he could hear the waver in Sicheng’s voice. But it was firm. As firm as how he ordered the forces to the war. Was he the one getting controlled in this situation? The Heaven’s Son getting controlled? Just how low can he get. In this time, he only hoped that his ancestors would stay inside their grave. He hoped the gold he had put there had satisfied their needs so that they wouldn’t crawl back to this throne. For if they did, they would see Heaven's Son beg for something.

“But you love me?”

“Yes, Your Majesty. For every breath I drew, it was to love you.”

Kun stilled, observing the face of the man. He knew it was a sincere word. But how many times has he encountered fake and empty words. Years of audiences brings him nothing but trust issues. He could hear the eunuch and officials talk as if it was their court. They could talk until their mouths formed foam, but Kun knew they would betray their words. Isn’t it why China’s torn right now? In this war.

But this was also a war for him. With what or who, he didn’t know.

Perhaps it was his mind playing tricks on him.

Kun straightened his back, his back now meeting the seat. He no longer leaned on the general. The Emperor doesn’t do that. He didn’t slouch. _He didn’t lean on someone other than his throne_.

“The audience is over,” Kun said.

Sicheng bowed, turned and marched away.

Sicheng didn’t come to his chamber for audiences again after that night. He would send a message containing his wish to do audiences through eunuchs, but never in His Majesty’s chamber. Never the two alone. For Sicheng doesn’t know how to tame his desire if he was to be with His Majesty alone.

Kun was left with a longing feeling. But he didn’t want to name this desire. He knew it was filthy and would stain his hands. 

One night he dreamt of him. Kun’s eyes saw Sicheng, he was taking Kun with him on his horse. like an ancient bannerman's wife, clinging to his waist amidst the clattering pots and pans lashed to the saddle. The two moved in perfect rhythm. Kun woke up with sweats. He hastily ordered the eunuchs to fan him as he cursed the summer heat.

The uprising has now reached nationwide. The countryside has made an alliance and planned to attack the governor. Kun has heard the news of officials there getting looted and robbed of their clothes and jewelry. They were protesting, demanding the help the kingdom promised. Peking is in the middle. And Kun was worried that when they reached this place, he would have nowhere to go. 

Again, he stared to the distance in the middle of the audience.

“Your Majesty?” Eunuch Feng spoke. His tone held this urgency he didn't dare to show to The Emperor. But it bleed through his face. "Your Majesty?" he asked again.

His dark eyes slowly regained its consciousness. Though the light of the glittery ceiling never quite reached his eyes. “Speak.”

“All five countries have formed an alliance against China, Your Majesty. They demand China to open the harbor for opium distribution.”

“Opium!” Kun exclaimed, slumping down on his throne. “How dare them propose those filthy things into this sacred land!”

Kun breathed heavily. Even raising his voice brought himself fatigue to the bone these days. 

“Not only that, Your Ma-”

“Enough! The audience is over. If it is that urgent, you can send them to me through my secretary,” Kun said, already lifting his bottom from the hard throne. 

“Your Majesty!” The eunuch spoke again, knocking his head to the ground. “Please punish me for my impudence! But Your Majesty needs to know about this!”

Kun stopped halfway and turned back to the eunuch. ”How dare you tell me what I need or not? Speak, Feng. And I’ll decide if they are important enough or not. Your head will be the price,” Kun said, keeping a facade.

Kun was shaking. He was very much afraid that people would find out that there was nothing to the image. Like his predecessors, he hid his face behind the gorgeous carvings of dragons and prayed that his costumes and props would help him play the part right.

At his words, Eunuch Feng lifted his head from the ground. His face was full of fluid and messy. But his voice was stern and firm when he finally said, “The country sides have signed a petition to declare a war against the Forbidden City, Your Majesty. They are ready with their force.”

Kun stilled and took a step backward to his throne. But his legs failed him and he almost fell to the ground.

“Your Majesty!” the nearby eunuchs were ready on his side. Not letting their heaven touch the ground. Not even an inch of his body.

“Get me the general. Get me Sicheng.”

The eunuch didn’t waste any time to show their confusion. They quickly moved and did as Kun commanded. Summoning Sicheng to the court.

Sicheng came. Looking as urgent as the eunuch was. He already knew.

Kun stared as Sicheng crossed the court in big steps and bowed in front of the throne. “Your Majesty.”

"Rise. You may rise." Kun closed his eyes and swallowed his own spit.

“What are you doing all this time? Why haven’t you did anything about this situation?”

Sicheng stayed with his silence. He only tightened his hold on his helmet. 

“Lead your army. Come home with glory,” Kun said.

He was aware of the stare he got from the ministers, even with their head on the ground.  
But he knows what he said. _Home_. This kingdom is not Sicheng’s home. Nor that Sicheng ever lived in the Forbidden City. He only wished that Sicheng knew. 

That Kun is willing to be someone Sicheng could come home to. 

He knew it was impossible. But all coherent thought fled away when he was against Sicheng. Kun was feeling brave. To say those words in front of this many people, he was signaling to Sicheng : Let it be known.

Kun took a deep breath.

“If you don’t,” Kun paused. He stared at the rest of the people in the court. Listening to his words as if their life depended on it. Suddenly aware. But Kun was irked that they were eavesdropping on him and Sicheng. It was as if they could see through his golden robe to his heart. 

Sicheng still held his head down. Forever bowing to him. 

“Audience is over.” Kun leaned back to his throne. Face as cold as stone when he commanded, “I’ll be discussing this privately with General Dong.” Kun left.

One of the eunuch summoned Sicheng to his chamber that night.

“Your Majesty?” Sicheng asked through the thin wall. His shadow was evident against the lit up room. Kun let him in. And they began to work.

“Bring home glory, and if you don’t,” Kun replayed his saying on the court earlier. 

The general visibly tensed. Already prepared to hear the consequence.

“If you don’t, at least come home.”

Kun used to have a friend. A general too.

Kun never remembered his name, even his face was a blur on his mind. All that was left was a montage of memory of him. He was the one who taught him how to fight with a sword. As the descendant of Manchu people, he belongs to the field, hunting and fighting on his horse. But Kun was fragile as a child, never even being exposed to direct sunlight and snow.

But the man treated him as a normal child. Teaching him as if he was a hunter in need of even a hare in the winter. Full of urgency. He remembered the general told him that in this place you need more than a sword to survive. But a sword works too. So he taught him how to use it.

It made Kun want to laugh.

The same man was killed in a battlefield by barbarians.

The battlefield was scary and Sicheng willingly stepped right into it.

At some point, when the candle has reached its middle length, Kun took off his robe. “Look Sicheng, I’m just like you, aren’t I?”

Beneath all of those heavy robes--full with layers of satin, embroidery, and ornaments--was a plain white robe. It’s not the same as Sicheng’s--a black robe. But plain nevertheless.

"I don't want to say 'to see you again,' but I am afraid that I am beginning to desire that,” Kun said, reciting what the whores told him last night.

Sicheng didn’t say a thing. His jaw clenched and unclenched, hiding the unsaid words.

Kun wished Sicheng had told him something. Affirmation of this feeling. Or anything. But Sicheng didn’t.

“Can’t you speak?”

“Your Majesty.”

Kun felt the needles in his heart. “Don’t call me that,” he said, tone lies between a command and a plea.

“Don’t call me that,” he warned Sicheng. “I have a name, Sicheng.”

Just like Sicheng, he has a name. But not like Sicheng, he has begun to forget about his name. When you became Heaven’s Son, you were no longer yourself. You represent China. And China is your new name. No one dares to address you as another name. 

His mother used to call him with his name. A nickname, lovely and comforting. But The Emperor disagreed. It was degrading. Even when Kun knew his name’s meaning is nowhere near degrading. And so, his mother addressed him as ‘Your Majesty’, ‘Heaven’s Son’, ‘Emperor’. But never Kun.

Sicheng slowly raised his head, now equal with the dragon throne. “I wouldn’t dare.”

“Please.”

Sicheng was curious what Heaven’s Son looked like while he was pleading. It was tempting and he is only a man with not much self control, so looked up he did. “Qian Kun,” he breathed out the unfamiliar syllables.

Kun kept his eyes locked to him. Knowing too well, if he kept it up, Sicheng would see his tears.

“Can’t you stay?”

Sicheng shook his head. “I have my own duty.”

“Why wouldn’t you be my loyal servant and serve by my side?”

“I am. I will always side with you, Your Majesty. But this isn’t my place. I belong to the battle field, because I’m a general.”

Kun kept his lips thin. He had nothing to say then, if that was Sicheng’s wish. “Very well, you may go now. Audience is over.”

Sicheng bowed and left. 

Sicheng had thought that The Emperor had given him his blessings to war with the barbarians. But Sicheng knew something’s wrong when the guard won’t let him go out

“Open the gate. I have armies to be prepared.”

“No. The Emperor already summoned Lieutenant Huang on behalf of you. He will lead the army,” the guard said. Not sparing Sicheng any glance as he continued to guard the door.

Sicheng didn’t move a foot. He was glued to the ground beneath him. He remembered that The Emperor had already given him permission to lead his forces. 

“You should be grateful that The Emperor personally asked you to guard him. It was such a honour.”

And so Sicheng accepted the request with honor. He stayed inside the Forbidden City for days, where he specifically waited for the time when The Emperor will summon him. But the order never came and he was stuck in this place. Still waiting for the order, or perhaps The Emperor himself.

Later on, Sicheng would remember the exact time he opened the message his comrade sent him. They lose. 

Many of the forces were dead or taken hostage. That didn’t make sense. He knew that the local brave were many. But they weren’t that much skilled to win over a skilled force.

This led him to The Emperor chamber that night. He walked with aim. Never missing a step. When he arrived at the closed gate, he was blocked by an eunuch. One of The Emperor’s loyal servants.

“Move, The Emperor needs to know this.”

“No. The Emperor is busy. You may go now, or I’ll summon the guards on you.”

“I insist. This is important!”

“Are you implying that you are more important than Your Majesty’s-”

“Renjun!”

The eunuch kept quiet. _Sicheng’s brother_ kept quiet, lips pressed into a thin line. “Please,” he pleaded to the eunuch.

Eunuch Dong sighed and when he looked up again, his eyes were watery. “You don’t want to be here, brother. You don’t want to know what-”

Before Renjun could finish his saying, the gate was open, revealing The Emperor in his plain robe. Sicheng finally knew what Renjun meant. The Emperor was with the whores again. And The Emperor looked anything but guilty.

Sicheng oppressed a chuckle. Why would The Emperor feel guilty? 

This is _his_ kingdom and he is The Emperor. He could do anything he wants. He could indulge himself in whoever he wants. Sicheng can’t control The Emperor. Nor his heart. The Emperor had built a throne inside his heart. And rule he did. The Emperor didn’t owe him anything and Sicheng shouldn’t hold his hope high.

“Sicheng?”

“Your Majesty,” Sicheng breathed out. His knuckles were hurt by how hard he clenched on them. Hands holding back the urge to caress The Emperor. “We lose, Your Majesty.”

“I know.” Isn’t that why Kun had busied himself this night. To forget about the issue? Rather than confronting it with nothing but his bare hands? He hoped this robe he wore would help him to maintain the illusion of his power. But everybody knew that The Son of Heaven has been kicked around the court table by the barbarians. They’re all too ashamed to admit it.

The minister did nothing but try too hard to tell high words about their son so that The Emperor would consider them being his successor. For The Emperor was heirless. And now, when he was too tired to even speak, they ruled the court as if it was theirs. 

Kun left Sicheng to get his robe and took him to the garden for a midnight walk.

They went to the Garden of Peace and Longevity. It was beautiful even when it was only lit by the moonlight. If someone was about to see them, they would think of nothing. The concubine wouldn’t expect something. It was just a scene of a king discussing something with his general. Probably about the fact that China is on the brink of losing the side of this unknown war. It brought relief to his heart. But then again, this place knows no peace. and soon he will be caught red handed.

Not comfortable with this silence, with only cicadas filling it, Sicheng opened his mouth, "I suspect that there is another force we have yet to know, Your Majesty. It's impossible for the farmer to fight this we-"

"Sicheng? What does death feel?"

"Your Majesty?"

Kun stopped, turned to him and repeated his question. "What does death feel like, Sicheng?"

Sicheng fell quiet for a while, thinking about the question thoroughly. He felt the need to impress The Emperor, but he couldn't think of anything. “Dying is cheap and living is noble. But is it true?”

“What does death feel like, Sicheng?” he repeated.

"Like a sleep. Truthfully, I, too, don't know. My words were limited by my experience and I don't know how to explain something I have yet to experience."

"But sleep is an enjoyable experience because it's followed by waking up. But what about death?"

Sicheng shook his head. "I wouldn't know, Your Majesty."

"Lately, I've been thinking a lot about death. My death, yours, everyone. Last night I even dreamt about something scary, Sicheng. I saw black hairs grow from that pippala tree," Kun said, pointing to the normal tree. 

There is no black hair.

"I think it was a curse, Sicheng. No matter how hard we tried, we couldn't win. China has been cursed and our ancestors have left us alone, Sicheng. It didn’t matter if I had sent you to the battlefield or not. We are losing anyway.”

Sicheng couldn’t keep his mouth from hanging open. Too shocked by the statement. “Your Majesty, they died because I couldn’t be there with them! I’m their general!”

“And to let you die together with them? You’re just a soldier, Sicheng. Adding you to the battlefield won’t make any difference,” Kun spat. He turned to Sicheng and realized what he just said. An apology was at the tip of his tongue. But he swallowed it down like a medicine. It was bitter.

Sicheng’s jaw hardened. “I see.”

“No matter how many symbols of goodluck and victory we wore, we were losing to the barbarians at the negotiating table.”

They didn’t say anything for the rest of the night. And so was the next day, and the next, and another. Sicheng stayed by The Emperor’s side, as a guard, a loyal dog beside his master. The leash was choking him even when he stayed still. At night, he stayed outside The Emperor’s chamber. Closing his eyes and ears and hoped that it was not The Emperor’s voice nor the whore’s. He hoped the cicadas were louder.

Sicheng breathed deeply and kept his eyes awake. _It was an honour, Your Majesty._

Sicheng knew China was in danger. The Emperor was forced to sign the agreement to legalize opium. The foreigner has built an embassy without The Emperor’s acknowledgement and claimed a piece of this land as theirs.

What kind of nonsense.

Sicheng already suspected that there were traitors in The Forbidden City. The war, these agreements, they knew too much. The Forbidden City was leaking heavily.

So Sicheng wrote a letter that went similarly like this : 'Your Majesty, I suggest Your Majesty to fire the ministers', complete with the reasons. They have been leeching off of the The Emperor's money. And they're the prime suspect of this atrocious incident. Sicheng waited as the ink seeped through the rice paper. The characters were glaring dagger at him, testing his courage to actually send it to The Emperor. In the end, he rolled it into a scroll and placed it neatly on his table.

Sicheng had his trusted servant. A servant named Chenle. He trusted this message to him, hoping it would reach The Emperor.

The message never did. And the servant's body was found in the skewer the next morning. No trace of the message.

Sicheng woke up with the bad news and never slept for the next few days. _The message, too, got leaked_. To whom, he didn't know.

In the broad daylight, He stood tall besides The Emperor, as a guard. Still as one of his trusted pillars. But when the sun went down, he never stopped shaking. Afraid of what will happen if he closes his eyes even for a minute.

“Lately, when I see something beautiful, I want to freeze it, Sicheng. To make it last forever,” The Emperor said. “But then again, I, too, don’t last forever. So what’s the purpose of it then?”

Kun turned to Sicheng. He traced the ornaments on Sicheng’s clothes. Almost none. It bored him. He looked up to his face, suppressing the urge to caress it. His hand clenched on the robe, not caring for once if the eunuch finds his robe messy.

_I want to be with you forever, Sicheng._

Sicheng didn’t say a thing. He knew The Emperor didn’t expect any answer.

“Forbidden City is poetry in its purest form. It is my spiritual garden where I can lie amongst my flowers and rest. But now, I’m not sure anymore Sicheng,” Kun said with sadness underlining his tone. His eyes were watery and the moonlight was blurring under his vision.

“The body of the boy, it haunts me Sicheng,” Kun said, hugging himself. The robe can’t bring him the warmth he needed even on this summer night. He shivered.

Sicheng put off his robe and put it on top of the golden robe. It covered the clouds, the sun, dragons, and numerous stars embroidered in golden linen. 

“Your Majesty,” Sicheng finally said, intending to tell The Emperor his plan to re enforce China. With this first step, removing the weed from The Emperor’s garden. Sicheng is willing to hurt himself picking the weed himself, to protect the Emperor’s feet from hurting.

“I’ve been meaning to tell that-”

“General Dong!” 

Sicheng turned to the sound, startled by it. The Emperor did too.

There stood Minister Shun, and behind him were the rest of the court officials and ministers. “Guards!”

At his command, the guards were instantly at Sicheng’s side, restraining him. Sicheng didn’t struggle, he knew if he did, Su Shun would have something to fight against him. He stayed still, but his mouth didn’t, “What is this Shun?”

“Silence! A traitor has no right to speak!”

“Traitor?” The Emperor asked, confused.

Su Shun turned to The Emperor and feigned a pity face. “Your Majesty! Punish me for my impudence! Punish me for not being able to protect you from this man!” Su Shun exclaimed as he kneeled down on the grass.

“General Dong Sicheng tried to poison Your Majesty!”

Kun froze. 

“Yes Your Majesty! The tea from your table has been proved to be poisonous!” Su Shun said. The crowd behind him step aside to reveal an eunuch holding a dead cat. The crowd gasped.

Kun turned to Sicheng. “Is that true Sicheng?”

Sicheng’s eyes never strayed from the cat’s body. Glistening with tears. “Never, Your Majesty, never.”

“Your Majesty! This man lied! He tried to be close to you so that he could overthrow this dynasty! He was even prepared with his own force!”

“That is not true Your Majesty. I would never hurt you.”

Kun kneeled down in front of Sicheng, ignoring the eunuchs word not to stain the golden robe. His hands flouted to Sicheng’s face, “Sicheng.”

Their eyes glistened with tears, showing each other the pathetic face of them. 

“Never, Your Majesty. For every breath I drew, I drew it for you,” Sicheng whispered.

Kun furrowed his brow and stood up, shrugging off Sicheng’s robe on the grass. “Take him to the prison,” he whispered. But the guards heard him just fine and did as he commanded.

Sicheng didn’t struggle, his body was pliant when the guards dragged him away, leaving The Emperor.

Kun went back to his chamber, to the table that was set before him. There were his meals. Plates of cuisine and preserved foods. And on the corner of the table was the teapot. Poisonous. _Tempting._

The court servants weren’t there. Kun kicked them out earlier. Wanting to be alone, he reasoned. But the guards were still outside--Kun could see their shadow on the poorly dim lighted corridor. 

He took the teapot and poured it into one of the empty cups. He brought it closer to his face.

That night, he met an old man, dressed in a plain robe. That man shouldn’t have been allowed in this kingdom. But he slipped everywhere he wanted. 

Kun knew the figure inside this Forbidden City. He just hasn't seen him in decades since he met him while his father was still alive. How stupid of him to forgot. But then again, he was distracted. So much that he actually forgot about the man. He, as many did too, addressed him as _betrayal_.

Sweet dear betrayal came back just for him.

The rippling tea inside the shaking cup couldn’t reflect his face and for that he was glad. He can’t afford to see disappointment at a night like this. 

Kun put down the cup and went to sleep like any other night. But this night, without whores, or full stomach, or love. He slept empty that night. He didn’t dare to say the other thing, because the thing was never besides him all along. It was just him all along. He was a fool to hold a hope.

The windows were closed, Kun couldn’t bear to shame himself in front of the moon. And so did the winds. They’re useless in a time like this. They’ll just spread the rumors : The Emperor was deceived. 

Kun was a fool.

In a big bed, designed for The Emperor and his whores, Kun slept embracing his robes. His golden robes, on there, embroidered dragons, clouds, animals, the sun, and symbols of luck and victory.

In his sleep, he could still hear it echoed, _I wish Your Majesty ten thousand years of life. Your luck shall be as full as the East China Sea and your health shall be as green as the Southern Mountains._

In the morning, there, on his table, was a preserved fish and other dishes. The table is big, but the plates succeeded in covering all of the surface.

The eunuch and the servants stood around his room, heads hung low with their hands folded in their front. Kun wanted to throw up even before swallowing a grain of rice. But then again, that’s alright. His servant would ready their hands to cup his vomit so that not one drop would stain his robe.

He eyed the preserved fish. The eye was dead, translucent, revealing its brain.

Perhaps this feeling, too, was similar to the preserved fish. Dead but last longer, not forever, but definitely last longer than his love.

His love is a fresh fish out of the water. New, never even been touched by filthy hands. But it rotted too soon in the bannerman saddles. Thrown around inside the damped leather. Smelled rotten even before someone ever tastes the sweetness. 

Kun didn’t eat.

On 23rd March, he saw General Dong again. His plain robes were torn, his face was covered by dirt and hair. It reminded him of the peasants in the countryside. The one Forbidden City failed to tame. The uprising has reached nationwide. Kun failed again.

Kun told the guards to leave them alone and they left.

Despite his appearance, Sicheng still stood tall. Metres away from The Emperor. His black eye stared at The Emperor without any hesitation nor fear. Everything seems to be faint in his eyes, except for the man in front of him.

“Sicheng.”

“Your Majesty,” Sicheng bowed, legs wobbly. Kun stepped forward, hands already reaching for him when Sicheng turned his head away.

Kun got the message already and retracted. He stared at the polished ground and sighed.

“Why would you do that Sicheng?”

Sicheng looked up to him and fell down on his knees. Hands still restrained, clenching on nothing on his lap. “I would never Your Majesty. I would never hurt you. Not even a strand of your hair.”

Kun tsked and brought his chin up, looking down on him. “Why are you so stubborn?”

“Your Majesty!” Sicheng yelled at him, care about nothing.

“It wasn’t me,” he whispered.

Kun shook his head, avoiding Sicheng’s piercing eyes. “It’s not up to me anymore Sicheng. I have to do what is required of me.”

Sicheng looked down again. Heavy breathing echoed throughout the silence.

“Alright then. I understand.”

Kun stared at the pond across the garden. He wondered how hot the water was. Did the fish ever wonder why they were here in the first place? Did they ever wonder that they were just an ornament? Did they ever wonder if they will ever boil to death in that pond?

Kun remembered when his mother would tell him stories of when she was bearing him inside her womb. She was anxious because she knew the other official consort wouldn’t like it and would try to harm her in every way to kill her baby. 

But still, they celebrate. The other ladies came and congratulated her. But she knew they cried themselves to sleep, if their red eyes were anything to go by.

There were ceremonies where his mother would release fish the eunuch caught for her back to the pond. It symbolizes kindness and forgiveness. For every fish her mother released, it added to his son’s blessing.

_Did the fish ever feel happy to be back in the pond?_

But he supposed that fish were fools. And that his mother was a fool too not to release much more fish.

“May your reign-” Sicheng breathed heavily. Sicheng dropped a single tear and Kun followed. “May your reign… be longer than mine.”

Kun inhaled deeply before finally saying, “It will.”

They stayed still, basking in the remnants of the feelings they ever experienced. The warmth has long gone. Perhaps it was because the fires were never really there. His robe produced wind that put off the fire every time he looked back to his throne. 

Only a speck of ash staining the polished ground under his high platform shoes that was left. And it sticks under his shoes and won’t come off.

Sicheng was his beloved. But never a lover.

He watched as Sicheng struggled to open his chapped lips. His voice was clear and comforting when he spoke. But Kun knew not to believe anything a traitor would say.

“Dying is cheap and living is noble, Your Majesty. Stay noble and let me be _your_ peasant.”

And Kun let it happen. He let the guards hands on Sicheng again, bringing him away from his feet. Sicheng didn’t even bother to run away. He was just a ragdoll that fell right into the enemies string. Soon, another string will restrain his neck too. But it was fine. This was what Heaven’s Son wanted and Sicheng didn’t dare to disobey.

Kun watched as Sicheng’s back slowly got further and his hands on his own robe getting tighter as the time passed. His cheeks were cold from the cold air hitting his tear stained cheeks. But this time, there were no calloused hands keeping the wind from hitting his cheek. Kun didn’t wipe them. It was a reminder that this too, shouldn’t be stopped from happening. 

This time, Heaven’s Son let the wind slap his face in shame.

“No!”

For a while, he thought he voiced his thoughts out loud. But it was not him. Kun turned to behind him. There stood an eunuch he couldn’t remember the name of.

“He is innocent! He hadn’t done anything wrong! He was framed, Your Majesty!” The eunuch got to his feet and sobbed against his platform shoes. His tears and hands reached everywhere. 

“Forgive my brother Your Majesty!” he yelled. His small body trembled from the force of his sobs. But the hands gripping his shoes were strong. 

Kun stared at him. Observing. Forgive? How could he ever forgive a traitor?

Sicheng tried to kill him. He was deceived from the very moment he laid a kiss on the general's lips. He was heartbroken. And forgive?

“Guards! Ged rid of this filthy peasant!” one of the ministers said. Claiming that this was Kun’s want. Kun wasn’t so sure. He stared blankly at the struggling eunuch in front of him, fighting the guards. What made him so adamant on living?

The eunuch was young. But the world was cruel as the minister also threw him into punishment like his brother. “They are plotting your demise, Your Majesty. Don’t ever trust this peasant.”

In the end, Kun was a coward and Sicheng was dead.

This is The Emperor’s life in a chaste ever-living garden named Forbidden City. Some weeds were made to be plucked. Some have rooted so deep that plucking it would damage the soil. Some flowers withered.

And that is alright. Life goes on.

But Kun didn’t. 

Years later, Kun held his so-called final audience. The secretary was there to write his final wishes as his hands were dead. And soon his body shall follow.

Lately, he has been hearing orchestras in his bedroom.

He recognized the song. He used to hear it all the time. Forcing the musicians to play it again and again. Kun never cares about the one who fainted in the middle of the performance. He simply commands the guard to bring them out and replace them.

The other didn't dare to even pause.

Perhaps this was his punishment after all this time.

Lately too, he has been hearing voices. Ugly thoughts. And it sounded just like someone he killed years ago.

Kun had many regrets that clogged up his respiratory and vein. But the courts did not know. They didn't hear him coughing late at night. They didn't see his falling hairs and they certainly didn't see his ribcage under the heavy robe.

The new eunuch was good. He styled The Emperor's hair as if it were gold threads. Precious. And mainly because Kun knew the eunuch hid his fallen hairs inside his sleeve to hide his deteriorating health. But Kun appreciated it. 

Perhaps he should've gifted the eunuch for caring about his mind. Kun couldn't even bear to see his hair kept falling. 

The minister saw the French dye and his finely arranged hairstyle as real. Knocking their heads on the ground, they sang, "Heaven's grace! Ten thousand years of health! Long live Your Majesty!"

Kun wouldn't agree to the prayer.

The ministers and the court officials were already waiting for him. But he was just a windbox that could only breath. He was just a symbol of false hope. 

For he too, had lost his hope years ago.

Long after Sicheng’s execution, Kun found out about the message Sicheng intended to tell him. He found out about the truth behind the body of the boy inside the skewers. 

Forbidden City gifted the boy’s family with thousands of tael for his service. But the old lady, the boy’s mother refused and spitted on the officials that were sent to her. She cursed the dead general her son swore loyalty to, she cursed The Emperor, and she cursed herself for sending her son to the kingdom when he was still a child.

Kun understood.

Even if you stacked and sculpted a statue of the boy with millions of gold coins, it couldn’t replace the boy. 

_Even if you already hung the corrupt ministers, it can’t bring Sicheng back. Or his brother, Renjun, The Emperor’s beloved eunuch._

Kun mourned for Sicheng for the rest of his life. But it could never be enough because his life too, was short.

Kun never wished to be like his mother. His mother was a woman blessed with longevity. But it would be a curse as she sat besides the bed. Longevity is nothing but a curse when you have to see your son dying before you. She sobbed and wiped the tears with the embroidered handkerchief.

“Why are you crying mother?”

Her mother didn’t say anything and chose to sobbed even louder. Kun wondered if he was already dead and his mother couldn’t hear him anymore. But the secretary was still busy with his brush. So he was still alive after all.

_Isn’t it relieving?_

“Do you pity me, mother?”

His mother shook his head violently.

“I’m glad.”

In his final hours, Kun stared into the ceiling of thousands of dragons. Every eyes were piercing under his skin and his bones ached from the feeling. His headache comes and goes whenever he thinks. But he relives the moment once again. Appreciating the pain he deserved. Appreciating being alive.

At one point he wondered what would happen if he drank the cup of tea that night. He would die for sure. And so was Sicheng, accused of the poisoning of The Emperor.

But maybe it was alright. If this life didn’t allow them to be a lover, then death shall grant their wish.

So, here he was, speaking his final wishes and additional empty words. The secretary patiently waited for him to finish his final words. But the court officials were tapping their shoes. They only wanted to hear the exact words : Who will be The Emperor’s successor?

Who knows?

Kun is heirless. He might think he had gone impotent. But it was not the case. Truthfully it was because Kun never really forgot. 

He was an excellent student. Memorizing each thing his teacher taught him. He memorized each poem his mother listened to just to recite it again and make her happy. He could retell the traditional opera the kingdom used to invite in the annual ceremony.

There were many things he memorized. One of them was his love.

Kun never really forgot about Sicheng. He only ever loved him and him only. The whores could go to hell and he wouldn’t care. But Sicheng, sweet dear Sicheng would go to Heaven and Kun couldn’t be there for he knew he was about to be sent to hell. He could drown the hellfire with his tears but he could never forgive himself.

Now he was laying on his deathbed. Death was already peeking from behind the curtain, hidden amongst his servants. Kun will welcome him tonight if not now.

Kun has failed China again. Even breathing felt like a crime to China now. So he stopped.

Here--on the soft mattress with embroidered silk and gold-- lies the symbol of victory, luck, and mortality foremost.

**Author's Note:**

> nothing to say here. maybe comment and kudo if you like it?
> 
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